


起死回生 kishi keisei 起死回生

by Prinxe_Procrastinate



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AKA an excuse to write very-dragon-like Hanzo, Gen, I don't plan fics beforehand, Pre-Brother Murder, Pre-Cybrog Genji, Shapeshifting!AU, also during brother-murder, does it count as major character death if he doesn't actually die?, it might get a little muddled if I make more, they fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:47:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinxe_Procrastinate/pseuds/Prinxe_Procrastinate
Summary: 起死回生 kishi keisei: Wake from death and return to life.Shapeshifting is a rare ability. Dragon shapeshifters are even rarer, an ability passed down through nearly-extinct families in Japan. The Shimada clan lays claim to some of the strongest dragon shifters in eons.This, unfortunately, has the occasional backlash on the children born a Shimada.(My first Overwatch fanfic!)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm from Utah, so I don't claim to know anything about Japan (other than I can do an anime girl voice) so I apologize for anything I do that's wrong. This is also my first official fic I'm unleashing to the Overwatch fandom. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

I'm not supposed to exist, so father makes sure that I get trained as much as he can afford. When my teachers are done or get fired, I never see them again. Father hires a lot of new teachers. He does't want people to know about me, ever.

So my brother makes friends for me. For himself, but they like his "imaginary friend" that's supposed to be me. He goes to school, and his teachers don't get fired like mine do. When he brings home goodies, he shares them with me. After him and Father go to the arcade, he always gives me something he won while he was there.

I accompany Father to his meetings more as I get older. The adults always look at me funny. "Don't let them get to you, LIttle Dragon," Father tells me before we enter the meeting room. He always tells me that.

If he found out how much it bothers me, he would be very disappointed. 

* * *

 My brother becomes ever more irresponsible as time goes on. Growing more brazen, he shows off the dragon in fits of youthful rebellion. He lets his scales show, baring his shoulders and claiming superiority.

I am not allowed to be so free with myself. The strength of the Dragon's presence doesn't allow for much humanity. My brother doesn't have horns, or scales scattered all over his body, or even the slitted pupils I bare. For me, the influence of the dragons makes itself well known, hiding what I could possibly have been had I not been born when I was.

"Your brother is a free spirit," Father says.

"We can't force him to join you," Father says.

"Focus on your work. Your brother cannot come help. I gave him time off for his birthday," Father says.

"Stay here," Father says.

Soon, my brother starts to bring me stories of the world outside of my rather large cage.

"You can't go outside," Father says.

My brother tells me the best places to go in our other form.

"The world won't appreciate you," Father says.

My brother says people enjoy playing with him in his other form.

"Don't ever leave our home," Father says.

My brother always "accidentally" leaves his bedroom window open at night, no matter what Father tells him.

Perhaps a single hour outside won't hurt.

* * *

The night after Father's death, I'm told I must take over the family business regardless of my appearance. My brother has very few responsibilities added to his platter, if anything that he didn't do beforehand. He disappears for most of the day for a week after Father's death, and I couldn't care less what he was doing. I had plans to make, and I couldn't make them with him watching my every move like a wary child.

This sudden change of hierarchy doesn't seem to bother my brother. It makes me angry. The business cannot be run by a monster like myself. Father had given my brother too much slack as a child. My brother, the most human out of the two of us, should be running our business. Instead, he is still running about, clueless about how to run such a business that our father had made, only knowing how to woo people with his honeyed words and ridiculous antics.

We meet each other in his room, as we did when we were children. Such a meeting has not been held in years, since we had become adults. In our other forms, we curl up beneath his dresser, and he tells me about his day. In these forms, he can sense my discontent, and I can sense his unease about my discontent. He attempts to calm me with his words, sharing stories of him and his friends doing stupid things in stupidly dangerous situations that they had set up for themselves. All he manages to do is make me more angry, reminding me of the life that I can never have because of the misfortune my birth had caused me.

He leads me out to our garden, green scales flickering in the firelight of the lanterns scattered around the grounds. We frolic around bushes and trees, with his hope being that the scent of the flowers in full bloom will help to relax me, as it did when I had been but an innocent child. So much has changed since then, and I feel nothing in response to the scent that surrounds us. We are alone, as we normally are at this time of night, and so I take my chance.

It takes but a minute to subdue him. My anger boils over, and he writhes in unashamed fear under the claws I had sharpened just an hour before. His claws are dull and soft, although they appear sharp and hard. His strength as a dragon is far less than my own. In all these years, all he has done has been to strengthen and mold his human body, leaving his dragon form in disuse, weakening it and preening it simply for show. The sheer golden mane that feels like silk against skin is soon tarnished, ruined as we tumble about in the dirt and over the garden wall, into the alleys of Hanamura.

What he deserves is not quick. Lazy, careless, throwing the family's money at scantily clad men and women in clubs across Japan. A disgrace. A stain, something disgusting to be vigorously scrubbed from existence, erased from the world, leaving its surface clean and unblemished once more. Therefore, I do not hold back as I tear into his flesh. He is unable to injure me, weak from his chosen lifestyle and the years of neglect he's given his body.

The garden is aflame and servants are putting out the fire when I step away from my brother in the alley several blocks from our home. Dragging him out this far had worn his strength down even further, allowing my superior stamina pave the way to my victory. He's laying on the cold ground, his blood marking a thick, dark path down the back streets from our home, rough and stuttering as I thrashed, tearing further into his body. Near the end of the fight, the end of this unfair, dirty, disgusting fight, he had been so weak that he had been forced out of his dragon form and to his supposedly stronger human form. Now, though, neither of his forms will be strong, even if he somehow miraculously survives having been attacked as viciously and brutally as I had torn at him.

This is no longer my problem. Turning my back to him, I begin my walk back to my home, following the trail of blood left by his pointless struggle. Genji is no longer a plague to our clan, and I have done my job as heir to the Shimada family.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought and if you want more of this! I'm willing to oblige and write some more Shapeshifter!AU to you guys!


End file.
